


Annabel

by Mierke



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 20:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12417447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mierke/pseuds/Mierke
Summary: Dudley's daughter might just have magic. Now what?





	Annabel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Themistoklis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themistoklis/gifts).



> Inspired by the following request:  
>  _I've got a thing for characters having the chance to redeem themselves. I'd like to see Dudley older, more mature, and less of a jerk. What would prompt him to try reaching out to Harry again - and what would he say? I'd also love to see Dudley with a magical child: How does he react to the news? How would he manage his family's reactions (from his parents' to Harry's)?_

Little Anna had been four when she showed her first signs of magic. She had been playing near the window when it suddenly started to pour outside. After a yelp at the sudden drops of cold water on her head, the window had shut closed - a window that was about a meter higher than the little girl could reach. Dudley had at the time convinced himself it had been the wind, conveniently overlooking the fact that the wind was blowing inwards.

There were other things, odds and ends here and there that didn't quite add up, but Dudley ignored every one of them. Until, a couple of years later, a teacher complained that Anna had been found on the roof. He well remembered the moment Harry had disappeared from his sight only to reappear on the roof; he had gleefully revelled in the punishment his cousin had gotten for that behaviour, but secretly he had been so immensely confused. Even when a talk with his daughter revealed that she had, in fact, gotten on the roof in the traditional way ("But papa, we were playing hide and seek!"), he sat down to write a letter.

He refused to turn into his parents. When he looked at his little girl, he couldn't imagine treating anyone so little and so vulnerable the way his parents had treated Harry, no matter who they were. So, he wrote a letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_This letter will probably come as a surprise to you, as, I admit, it did to me. I genuinely hope you're still alive, and not just because I need your help._

_Nine years ago, my wife gave birth to a little girl. This beautiful angel just turned nine, and some inexplicable things have been happening around her. To be completely honest with you, it's a little scary. Do you think you could come see us some time? It's just me and my girl these days, and I want to do right by her._

_Sincerely,  
Dudley_

It had been his fifth or sixth attempt, and he figured it would simply have to do. He realised there was a lot he wasn't saying, but he didn't feel right explaining it all in a letter he wasn't even sure would reach its intended destination. How do you send a letter to someone when you don't know where they live? The only thing about Harry's world he could vaguely remember, was the name of his school, because he had always found it hilarious. Hogwarts was so much worse than Smeltings. He decided to send the letter to the school, and added a little note.

_Dear Hogwarts professor,_

_Would you please be so kind as to forward this letter to mister Harry Potter? I really need to get in touch with him, but I don't know how to reach him._

_Thank you for your assistance in this matter,  
Dudley Dursley_

* * *

For a beat Dudley just stared at the man before him. This could have been your brother, an unbidden thought rose up, and he shoved it away (he had no use for regret, nor for an extra reason to torture himself). Harry's hair still had the same chaotic appearance it used to have when he was younger, but that was pretty much where the comparison ended. He had grown taller, it seemed, or maybe he had just learned to stand up straight; his face had lines that made him look years older than Dudley, and there seemed to be a small tremor in his right hand. But he held himself with a confidence that Dudley had never expected to see in the boy he had tormented since childhood.

"Come in," he gestured, and tried to surreptitiously wipe his sweaty palms on his sweater before extending his hand to shake Harry's. It felt stiff and formal, but in his years of trying to be taken seriously as a single dad he had found that a good handshake went a long way. Harry's shake was as confident as the rest of him; not overly strong, either, and the twist that had been tweaking its way around Dudley's spine lessened a bit.

"Tea?" he asked, and gratefully put the kettle on when Harry said that yes, he would like some tea. It all felt easier to handle, somehow, as long as Dudley had something to do with his hands and didn't have to look at this strange man in his house. He was relieved Anna was playing outside; visible through his kitchen window, but too far away for Harry to initiate any contact. He wasn't sure he trusted him yet.

"You have a lovely home," Harry said, and Dudley choked back something between a sob and a laugh. He knew he lived in a matchbox; ever since Amanda left, it had been difficult to make ends meet.

"I mean it," Harry continued, seemingly having heard Dudley's internal response without him having to voice it out loud. Was that a magic thing or was he just being that obvious?

Dudley turned away from his water and raised his eyebrows.

"There's hardly enough space for the two of us," he said. "Everything I own comes from a thrift shop. I know it's not much. There's no need to insult me."

His voice sounded too loud and too harsh, even to his own ears, but he couldn't take them back. An awkwardness settled over the kitchen, and when the kettle whistled, Dudley was glad to have a reason to turn away. He felt protective of the little he had been able to provide his daughter with, and Harry's words just drove home how much he was lacking. He knew he wasn't enough, damn it, that was the whole reason why he had invited Harry in the first place!

The anger was ringing so loud in his ears he didn't immediately catch on that Harry had started talking.

"... a museum," Harry said. "It was a shrine to you, so it was obviously more noticeable for me than it was for you. But... Your parents were so focused on hiding their dirty little secret, that everything had to be in a constant state of perfection. What you have, it may not be big, or fancy, it may not follow the latest trends and magazines, but it's a home. That's all I ever wanted growing up. Anna is a lucky girl."

Dudley started pouring the tea, not sure how to reply to what Harry had just said. He hadn't asked him here for an analysis of his own childhood, and he was definitely not willing (not ready) to discuss anything that had happened with Harry. He wanted to move forward, not backward. 

"Is she one of you?" he asked, wanting the break the brittle mood that had risen up; it came out snappish in a way he hadn't intended. "I mean-"

"I know what you mean," Harry interrupted.

Dudley put the cups of tea on the table, and sat down.

"I don't think you do," he said, forcing his voice to be calm the way he did when he got really scared by some trick his daughter pulled but didn't want to let her know in case his fear would scare her too. He didn't want this to turn into a fight, he really didn't. "I don't care if she has magic. I just..."

He sighed, turning the words over and over in his head. It didn't matter how much he'd practiced this part, he hated making himself so vulnerable, especially to someone with so much reason to want to make his life miserable. What if Harry simply didn't want to tell him, wanted to see him suffer, wanted him to beg and shout and then still wouldn't put him out of his misery? 

He stole a glance at the boy on the other side of the table, who was quite calmly stirring his tea. He didn't seem angry, or vengeful. Dudley took a deep breath. Harry was a... a wizard, he reminded himself. If he had wanted to hurt Dudley, he wouldn't have had to wait until Dudley got into touch, he just would have done it.

"I want to do right by her," he said. "And having a girl was hard enough. What do I know about girls? After Amanda left, I've been running blind on that front. And if she's magic as well... I don't know how to be a father to someone so different than me. How am I supposed to be there for her if I can't understand what she's going through?"

He kept his eyes firmly on his tea then. He didn't want to see what was in Harry's eyes, sure it must be something like disgust or anger or pity. He wasn't proud of himself, he really wasn't, but he was trying, damn it.

"What about you parents?" Harry asked instead of answering the question, and Dudley only just managed to keep himself from throwing his hands up in disgust.

"Well, they're part of the problem, aren't they?" he said. "They haven't exactly set the best example for parenting someone who's different than you are."

He bit his lip to keep himself from begging Harry to just _tell_ him whether his little girl would grow up to be a witch or not. 

"I haven't decided yet what I'm going to tell them, if it comes to hat. I might just say she was accepted to a school for gifted students. That would be the truth, wouldn't it? I don't want her to have to hide from them, but I want even less for her to go through... what you went through."

When Harry didn't say anything else for a while, Dudley looked up to find him fighting against tears. He quickly looked down at his tea again, pretending he hadn't seen anything. How do you comfort someone whose pain you're partially responsible for?

"I can't tell you," Harry eventually said. "No one knows for sure. The family of one of my friends only found out for sure when he fell out of a window and bounced to safety. I wouldn't recommend trying that, though."

He laughed, a little, but Dudley couldn't join in. What now?

"What I do know, though," Harry continued. "is that you'll be fine. You obviously love her very much, and that's really the only thing a child needs. If you want, I can ask my friend Hermione to come around. She's Mugglebo-, I mean, she grew up like Anna, with parents who had no idea about magic. And she's a girl, so she might be able to help you with that as well."

"Why?"

Harry looked so taken aback at his question that Dudley finally lost the struggle to keep a lid on his temper and raised his voice.

"Why would you help me? Why invite me into your life, offer help from your friends, when all you ever got from me were contempt and hatred?"

"You're family," Harry said, looking for all the world as if that should be an answer when it didn't answer _anything_ , because hadn't his parents been Harry's family too? "You grew up. Would I want to help the boy who rounded up his friends to beat me? Probably not. But you grew into a different person, a better person. You're not your parents, and at some point in your life, you realised that."

"How can you even tell?" Dudley asked bitterly, all the fight draining out of him. He had been working so hard towards becoming that better person, to be the best father he could be, to make sure that he could give Anna everything she needed. 

"You asked for help," Harry simply said. "Your parents hid me and hoped that my magic would never grow, would just disappear if they ignored it enough. You're not even sure whether Anna is magic, and you're still willing to reach out to me. That says enough."

"How do I tell her?" Dudley asked, feeling so very small.

"You don't," Harry said. "You wait until she either gets her Hogwarts letter or she doesn't, and then you explain things to her. You're not technically allowed to say anything, and while I don't think the Ministry would wipe your memories, I wouldn't take the risk."

He looked at his watch.

“I have to go, I’m sorry.”

He stood up from his chair then, obviously ready to leave. Dudley followed, his manners making him work on autopilot while his mind still tried to work through all the emotions of the afternoon.

"You can always call me," Harry said, and gave Dudley a business card that looked surprisingly normal. He gave Harry a confused look, but the man shrugged.

"Hermione had a new toy," he laughed, and then he was out the door. 

Dudley stared after him, his stupor only broken when Anna bounced in not long after, jumping right into his arms.

"Who was that, daddy?"

"A... friend," Dudley answered while he carried his little girl inside.

"Will I get to meet him one day?"

Her excited chatter made him smile, and he dropped a kiss on her head.

"I think you might, Annabel," he said. "I think you might."


End file.
